


A Little Kind of Revelation

by taichara



Category: Robotech
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 06:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2498765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Nichols was expecting a guest, courtesy of the Icarus' top brass.  What he <i>wasn't</i> expecting was just who that visitor turned out to be.</p><p>The least he could do was share his java with the guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Kind of Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> _prompt: author's choice, author's choice, I never thought I'd see you again_

_Well, at least life is anything but boring …_

_To say the least._

Lieutenant Louis Nichols shook his head at his own silly quip and poured himself a cup of coffee before plunking down at a workstation to stare blearily at the latest and greatest data collations. Reflex Point was destroyed, hooray! The Regess and her offspring were gone, hooray! There were no bloody Neutron-S missiles scouring the Earth of all life in some crazed scorched-earth insanity, _a million hoorays!_

But alas, all that meant work, and not even the interesting kind of work that involved sharing lab space with Janice. Oh well.

_And I’m getting invaded today. Hoo-raaayyyy …_

One thing that never grew old, though – or so Louie found himself musing, mug cradled in hand as he poked at a file – was just how good the coffee was onboard the Icarus. Oh sure, it wasn’t like it was some high-flying gourmet thing or anything like that; but both he and his taste buds could still remember the horrible gutrot that passed for blessed death nectar back with the ATACs and _oh_ yeah, there was just no comparison.

Good thing, too, seeing as he wanted at least another mug before that whoever-it-was from Earthside came skulking around his lab.

_Seriously, why did Captain Grant decide to allow some random resistance fighter up here?  
It’s not like there’s anyone left on the planet that would come looking for me …_

Grumbling, Louie shoved a hand through the rusty shock of his hair and stared at the file like it held the secrets of the universe. No, Vince had to be up to something. Jean too, for that matter – she’d been looking entirely too pleased with herself for the last few days, and no amount of wheedling had gotten anything out of her except cheerfully maddening little smiles and some vague comment about a successful surgery. Except Louie had promptly hacked the Icarus’ crew complement database and not a soul was on the medical schedule for surgery of any kind.

_So, what on Earth, or off it, even, are you two planning to pull on –_

A shadow suddenly blanketed him.

“No more tanking for you, eh? Lab work looks good on you, Louie.”

That voice – that _voice_! Baritone, dry, that lurking hint of bemused amusement – that voice was dead, gone. Impossible.

_No. No way. Someone’s pulling some stunt._

Mug clutched like some Garudan luck-talisman, Louie spun in place so quickly the chair wheels groaned in protest. And looked _up_.

“Try to breathe, man, holding your breath’s not healthy. Come on, am I _that_ much of a shock?”

“Z-z-z- _Zor?!_ ”

Zor indeed, because surely there could be no mistaking that looming figure in battered cargos and leather jacket. Oh sure, he’d added muscle ( _how?!_ , some part of Louie’s brain screamed at the rest of him) and picked up scars; the lean features were older, and a little sharper. But the curly hair had the same damn cowlick in the lavender-grey bangs, and the violet eyes were was piercing as they ever were. But _still_ – but _how_ –

“Give me that before you drop it. Seriously, pull yourself together, Corporal.”

– And in one motion his visitor proved himself beyond all doubt as far as Louie was concerned. However it happened, this was Zor Prime, not some trick, and not some other unknown clone. Not when the sinewy hand grabbing for his coffee still sported the same ravaged, scarred knuckles from that long-ago fistfight with his own reflection. It was him. Somehow.

Louie drew a shaky breath, firmed up his grip on his mug – prompting a little chuckle from Zor – and gestured weakly for the other man to find a seat while he hunted out a second cup. The few minutes of fumbling with the coffee machine helped him cover his racing thoughts (or so he hoped, anyway). He was reclaiming his own seat and handing over the blessed caffeine when he spotted the smooth surgical sealant all but hidden in Zor’s hair. So was it him, then …?

“Um, you okay to be up and around, big guy?”

Zor shrugged, laughing at the return of Louie’s old nickname of sorts for him. It certainly didn’t take long.

“Head surgery, but outpatient work more or less. It was right at the surface.  
“I think I like Doctor Grant; she’d actually treated me like a person, which is a vast improvement over my last stint in a military hospital …”

Louie coughed; Zor snorted, and continued on.

“… Anyway, if you ever see Angelo again you can tell that stubborn bastard he was right. Damn it.”

Suddenly dangling from Zor’s hand (the one without the coffee) was an arachnid tangle of wiring and nodes of circuit-laced metal. Louie recognized it immediately; Tiresian tech, the kind used for … oh boy.

“… Well, I guess that certainly explains a lot …”

“No kidding.”

The bland dryness in the rumbling voice was not lost on the Lieutenant, oh no. And he was just as glad to hear it – that wry humour was more like the Zor that had been teammate to the Fifteenth, and not like … whatever, or _whoever_ , he’d become by the time he’d blown the mothership sky-high. And, speaking of blowing up motherships … 

Carefully, Louie finally set his much-abused mug onto the worktop. Oh well, not like Zor ever cared – maybe – about prying questions anyway.

_Or maybe he did and we just didn’t notice. Aww, damnit …_

_*poke*_ between the eyes, just above the frame of his glasses. Zor was chuckling again.

“Come on, spit it out. You got that look. I’m not going to bite you, for god’s sake, I’m the one who came looking for you in the first place.  
“Ask.”

“—How’re you even _here_ , Zor? Dana said you –“

“Blew myself up?”

The violet eyes had darkened.

“That wasn’t me. That was some engram of that bastard of a genetic progenitor that hijacked me when the fucking Masters restored my memory of what they did to me all my life … anyway.”

Zor paused briefly to take a swig of coffee and collect himself; for his part, Louie was torn between wariness at the tense – and much bigger than himself – Bioroid pilot-turned-resistance fighter’s obvious agitation and being downright fascinated at how natural Zor sounded cursing.

“… I don’t _know_ how, exactly. Based on what the folks who found me passed on once I could understand what they were talking about again, it involved an escape capsule and my Tank at least.  
“I’m assuming once Derelda’s engram let go I went back into fugue and escaped on autopilot. Stayed that way, more or less, for a couple of years; was nursed along by some people I’ll never be able to repay.”

For a few moments Zor stared off into the middle distance; from the look on his face, Louie decided he didn’t want details about that whole repayment issue. Then Zor gave himself a little shake, scratched around the scalp dressing, and picked up his narrative again.

“By that point the Invid’d nested all over the planet. I never really noticed until they found some newly sprouting patch of Flowers a few klicks away and came to carry off the town – but Frost and the rest of her crew were _also_ in town, resupplying, when they hit.  
“I guess they’d been asking questions about me, and who could blame them since I’m obviously not Terran and don’t look much like the Tiresians they’d seen either, and then when the crabs stormed the place apparently I went berserk on the spot. And a switch got flipped and I could _think_ again.”

The relief in his voice could almost be touched. Louie didn’t blame him in the slightest.

“Once the Invid were dealt with I moved on with Frost’s people. It was the best use I could’ve made of what I am, hunting those fuckers down.  
“If having the Queen Mother of all crabs drag her spawn off-planet practically under my nose didn’t wake up any unwanted ghosts in my head, I’m free; and I just had the cause of my seizures taken out of my skull altogether. So, there it is.”

Zor spread his hands (cup and all) as if to summarize the entire story with that one gesture. There were a dozen different things Louie could think of to ask about, but it could wait. Maybe. Depending. 

“So, Zor … you signing on with the Icarus? We might be hooking up with other ships some time soon, might even run into some other old faces …”

“I don’t know.”

A shrug.

“Someone would have to give me a good reason – that planet down there’s not going to fix itself, you know. And Len and Melissa and Zhang and Frost and the rest of the crew … I’m pretty sure I know what a _family_ can be like, Louie. I’d need a damn good reason to up and bail on them now, after everything they’ve done for me.  
“So, unless the UEEF’s looking to pick up a hell of a lot more bodies, or something else happens …”

Another shrug.

“Even with that, though, I wanted to see your bony face again at least once. I heard you mentioned and since Len was asking around about getting my head checked, well. Here I am, stealing your coffee while I have the chance.”  
Saluting with the cup, Zor leaned back and cheerfully ignored the chair’s pained creak of protest.

“Now it’s _your_ turn. Tell me what I’ve missed.”


End file.
